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yes; which had suddenly acquired a beauty more singular than that of miss temple’s—a beauty neither of fine colour nor long eyelash; nor pencilled brow; but of meaning; of movement; of radiance。 then her soul sat on her lips; and language flowed; from what source i cannot tell。 has a girl of fourteen a heart large enough; vigorous enough; to hold the swelling spring of pure; full; fervid eloquence? such was the characteristic of helen’s discourse on that; to me; memorable evening; her spirit seemed hastening to live within a very brief span as much as many live during a protracted existence。
they conversed of things i had never heard of; of nations and times past; of countries far away; of secrets of nature discovered or guessed at: they spoke of books: how many they had read! what stores of knowledge they possessed! then they seemed so familiar with french names and french authors: but my amazement reached its climax when miss temple asked helen if she sometimes snatched a moment to recall the latin her father had taught her; and taking a book from a shelf; bade her read and construe a page of virgil; and helen obeyed; my organ of veneration expanding at every sounding line。 she had scarcely finished ere the bell announced bedtime! no delay could be admitted; miss temple embraced us both; saying; as she drew us to her heart—
“god bless you; my children!”
helen she held a little longer than me: she let her go more reluctantly; it was helen her eye followed to the door; it was for her she a second time breathed a sad sigh; for her she wiped a tear from her cheek。
on reaching the bedroom; we heard the voice of miss scatcherd: she was examining drawers; she had just pulled out helen burns’s; and when we entered helen was greeted with a sharp reprimand; and told that to…morrow she should have half…a…dozen of untidily folded articles pinned to her shoulder。
“my things were indeed in shameful disorder;” murmured helen to me; in a low voice: “i intended to have arranged them; but i forgot。”
next morning; miss scatcherd wrote in conspicuous characters on a piece of pasteboard the word “slattern;” and bound it like a phylactery round helen’s large; mild; intelligent; and benign… looking forehead。 she wore it till evening; patient; unresentful; regarding it as a deserved punishment。 the moment miss scatcherd withdrew after afternoon school; i ran to helen; tore it off; and thrust it into the fire: the fury of which she was incapable had been burning in my soul all day; and tears; hot and large; had continually been scalding my cheek; for the spectacle of her sad resignation gave me an intolerable pain at the heart。
about a week subsequently to the incidents above narrated; miss temple; who had written to mr。 lloyd; received his answer: it appeared that what he said went to corroborate my account。 miss temple; having assembled the whole school; announced that inquiry had been made into the charges alleged against jane eyre; and that she was most happy to be able to pronounce her pletely cleared from every imputation。 the teachers then shook hands with me and kissed me; and a murmur of pleasure ran through the ranks of my panions。
thus relieved of a grievous load; i from that hour set to work afresh; resolved to pioneer my way through every difficulty: i toiled hard; and my success was proportionate to my efforts; my memory; not naturally tenacious; improved with practice; exercise sharpened my wits; in a few weeks i was promoted to a higher class; in less than two months i was allowed to mence french and drawing。 i learned the first two tenses of the verb etre; and sketched my first cottage (whose walls; by…the…bye; outrivalled in slope those of the leaning tower of pisa); on the same day。 that night; on going to bed; i forgot to prepare in imagination the barmecide supper of hot roast potatoes; or white bread and new milk; with which i was wont to amuse my inward cravings: i feasted instead on the spectacle of ideal drawings; which i saw in the dark; all the work of my own hands: freely pencilled houses and trees; picturesque rocks and ruins; cuyp…like groups of cattle; sweet paintings of butterflies hovering over unblown roses; of birds picking at ripe cherries; of wren’s nests enclosing pearl…like eggs; wreathed about with young ivy sprays。 i examined; too; in thought; the possibility of my ever being able to translate currently a certain little french story which madame pierrot had that day shown me; nor was that problem solved to my satisfaction ere i fell sweetly asleep。
well has solomon said—“better is a dinner of herbs where love is; than a stalled ox and hatred therewith。”
i would not now have exchanged lowood with all its privations for gateshead and its daily luxuries。
d
Chapter 9
…小……说。网
but the privations; or rather the hardships; of lowood lessened。 spring drew on: she was indeed already e; the frosts of winter had ceased; its snows were melted; its cutting winds ameliorated。 my wretched feet; flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp air of january; began to heal and subside under the gentler breathings of april; the nights and mornings no longer by their canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins; we could now endure the play…hour passed in the garden: sometimes on a sunny day it began even to be pleasant and genial; and a greenness grew over those brown beds; which; freshening daily; suggested the thought that hope traversed them at night; and left each morning brighter traces of her steps。 flowers peeped out amongst the leaves; snow…drops; crocuses; purple auriculas; and golden…eyed pansies。 on thursday afternoons (half…holidays) we now took walks; and found still sweeter flowers opening by the wayside; under the hedges。
i discovered; too; that a great pleasure; an enjoyment which the horizon only bounded; lay all outside the high and spike…guarded walls of our garden: this pleasure consisted in prospect of noble summits girdling a great hill…hollow; rich in verdure and shadow; in a bright beck; full of dark stones and sparkling eddies。 how different had this scene looked when i viewed it laid out beneath the iron sky of winter; stiffe